


Not Without You

by Ijustneed12percentofamoment



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Edited, Gen, What Have I Done, a 'what if' au, new fist of hydra, platonic dedication, slash not intended but if you wanna read it that way your more than welcome to, steve and bucky continue to be pains in the ass for hydra, the first avenger au, torture and psychological abuse, we all know peggy could have done it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ijustneed12percentofamoment/pseuds/Ijustneed12percentofamoment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Besides from their Howling Commandos left on the train, no one knew where they were. There was only one other person who knew they’d fallen off that train; who would have eyes scouring everywhere for the chance to bring back an American icon. Bucky was terrified. Terrified for himself, but mostly for Steve, just knowing what they’d do to him. </i>
</p><p>An AU oneshot of the changes that might have followed if Steve had fallen off the train after Bucky and been captured by Hydra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I do not own any Marvel characters, or the song/lyrics that features at the beginning (but you can listen to it here if you like :) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-PqKcbgfn0 )

_“One hand breaks another, broken bones can always mend._

_Loss will be a blessing that will turn us back again._

_Cause we don't wanna, we don't wanna, wanna walk alone forever,_

_We don't wanna live without each other in the end.”_  

_– ‘Dreams’ The Temper Trap_

 

   

_I’m not afraid of death. But I am a little scared of what comes next._

 

The impact was extreme – every part of his body wanted to rip itself apart. But instead it was forced to be held together like a giant cork holding back a river of energy. And like anything that was forcibly restrained, something inside was bound to snap.

Thanks to whatever the hell Zola gave him, Bucky reeled from the impact, gasping as he came to, hypothermic and surrounded by snow. The serum however, hadn’t been enough to save his arm.

He arched his back as feeling came rushing back and knocked him speechless for a heartbeat, before he screamed from the pain that began in the shreds of his old arm and quickly enveloped the rest of him in a numb paralysis.

Not only could he acutely feel the ragged skin and exposed bone as the snow burned into the open wound, but he could still feel his phantom limb that _should have_ been there. The mental shock was just as hard to fight as the physical pain.

 

“Buck?”

He could barely move his head. He was so cold and blinded by pain that it took him a few minutes to hear the sound of a stream at his feet and the source of the voice.

Then he remembered falling.

Metal bent under his hands and then he was gone, Steve desperately trying to grab him, but missing.

And then Steve fell too.

“Oh god no.” He moaned, staring at Steve next to him in the snow, blood staining his hands and leg, where a bone jutted out through his torn uniform.

“I’m okay.” Steve grimaced, rolling himself onto his back and gasped low. His hair was dripping wet and hands clutched at his chest where more blood bloomed from something inside his chest.

Bucky struggled to gasp for breath from the shock that blurred his vision - the ice water they’d fallen into stealing their breath and the fall snatching their freedom. They just didn’t know it yet.

Bucky’s teeth couldn’t stop chattering and his body wouldn’t stop shaking. Blood continued to spurt out beside him until his vision tunnelled as he watched Steve slowly lose consciousness, the snow around them half white, half scarlet.

…

When they came around for the second time, Steve could feel his injuries trying to heal, but something wasn't right. His chest was tight and he tasted blood in the back of his throat. His leg however, would take more than the serum to fix.

He looked over to Bucky’s prone body next to him and was struck again by the atrocities he’d suffered at Hydra’s hand.

 _“Steve, geez, I’m okay. Will you relax already?”_ He’d reassured him offhandedly when Steve had questioned him after their escape from the camp in Austria. But when he glimpsed the burn marks on either side of his head, they only proved his worst fears. Now, as he lay here in the snow next to him, impossibly alive, Steve knew that hadn’t been the only thing they’d done to him.

He watched as Bucky’s chest heaved from the effort to breathe – he probably had a few broken ribs of his own. When Steve had dragged him unconscious from the lake, his shield lost in the white waters, he couldn’t make himself look at what was left of his arm. The ragged skin and exposed bone was too messy, too red to try and absorb. In between that and whatever other injuries he’d collected, Steve didn’t know how long they’d be able to survive the cold out here before someone would come searching for them.

He could see the red splotches across Bucky’s cheeks and nose from being exposed to the ice, and guessed he mustn’t look much better himself. Their gloves had survived the fall (all three, now), so their extremities were covered at least. Maybe if he could find some shelter… some sort of cave maybe…

He groaned as he rolled to his side, the pain in his chest to sharp to ignore.

“Steve…” Bucky whispered, not looking over. His eyes weren’t even open.

“I’m here.” He replied.

“I know.” Bucky moaned. “Why?”

Steve didn’t answer. He winced as he dug his elbows into the snow and tried to drag himself… Where? The only break in this flat, iced landscape was the colossal pine trees that scattered the valley for miles.

Squinting against the harsh air, Steve dragged himself closer to where Bucky lay instead, and collapsed back to the ground, exhausted and fighting for breath.

“You shouldn’t be here, Steve.” Bucky said, voice laden with pain. He swallowed and opened his eyes, scowling when he saw the chasm they’d fallen down yawning above him. Snow was everywhere, all grey and blue and white. Somewhere up there near the top, his mangled, destroyed arm hung; the rocky cliff face tearing it from him almost as soon as he had started to fall, like a cruel toll.

Steve’s voice was puffy and laboured, more like he remembered it before he became _Captain America_.

“I couldn’t leave you behind… Not when I knew I had a chance of surviving.”

Bucky let that sink in while he felt the sting of the ice slowly spreading over the stump of his arm.

He frowned.

“Steve, please don’t tell me that means what I think it does.”

His friend didn’t answer. For a terrible moment he thought he’d passed out or worse, and fell easily back to his role of looking out for his best friend. He had always had a habit of making reckless decisions, the punk, and Bucky feared that this was about to become the worst one of all.

Bucky turned his head, found Steve closer to him collapsed on his side, lips purpling. Those blue eyes evaded his own at first, but when they finally did settle upon him, the answer was there.

Bucky moaned with horror.

“Oh god, Steve, _no_. Why? What were you thinking? You could have been _safe_ if you’d just stayed on that fucking train.”

“I couldn’t do it. Not without you.”

Steve’s struggle for breath made Bucky look at him more closely. Surely with the serum’s healing powers, he’d be up and making a plan by now. That’s when he saw the blood.

His eyes widened, and would have sat bolt upright if he could.

“Steve. Oh Christ, Steve your chest.”

Steve didn’t move for a few moments – he seemed to be struggling with a fight for consciousness. Finally, going by Bucky’s horrified gaze, Steve felt along his right side with numb fingers until he got to a section of his ribs that spiked with pain. He flinched and Bucky watched on as he discovered the pointed tip of what could only be a shard of wood.

Dread made Bucky temporarily forget the pain as he reached over with his good arm and managed to grab Steve’s hand.

“Steve… all this time I was trying to keep you out of danger. Not that I don’t–”

He broke off, and even Steve looked up from the snow.

Ice crunched.

“Did you hear that?” Bucky finally whispered. Their gaze met.

“Someone’s coming.” Steve nodded.

The noise grew louder and larger - whoever was coming wasn't alone.

Besides from their Howling Commandos left on the train, no one knew where they were. It’d take days, weeks even, to find them down here. There was only one other person who knew they’d fallen off that train; who would have eyes scouring everywhere for the chance to bring back an American icon.

“Holy shit,” Bucky choked, insurmountable terror rising in his chest as he closed his eyes. Flashbacks to Austria and _that room_ made him start to hyperventilate, and he willed himself not to pass out. Bucky was terrified. Terrified for himself, because he knew what it meant, but mostly for Steve, because he didn't. Looking over at his best friend, tears burned behind his eyes, just _knowing_ what they’d do to him. Steve had no idea what they had done in the months before he'd rescued him, but that would be nothing compared to what they’d do now.

“You were supposed to go and save the world, dammit.” Bucky grimaced, the fear and pain and sorrow building to cause tremors through his body and it hitched his voice. “You were supposed to _live_.”

The footsteps were coming closer now.

“I couldn’t let you die.” Steve whispered, his eyes drooping.

“We might end up worse than that.” He said, but he didn’t know if Steve heard him. His eyes weren't opening. Bucky shook him, called his name – nothing.

“ _No_ , Steve…” he pleaded, but then realised that if he had died, maybe, just _maybe_ he’d be spared from the horror of Hydra. A selfish part of him wished he was still alive – he was his best friend after all, and if he had any reason to survive this, it’d damn well be for Steve – but then the black uniforms came out of the trees and surrounded them, weapons ready. And Bucky hated the fact that he hoped Steve was dead, because otherwise it would mean that he had failed in protecting him from these monsters. Steve might be Captain America now, but to Bucky he was still the little kid from Brooklyn that had more courage then ten lions. He was still the person who meant most to him, and if he needed help, then there was no title or label that could stop Bucky being the one to help him.

But there were suddenly hands on him, dragging him away from Steve, threatening to break their clutched hands.

“No!” Bucky could only moan in pain and grief as they started to drag him away, finally breaking the connection. He was utterly helpless to do anything as the iced stump of his arm split open and fresh blood started to trail beside him.

But when he saw them pick up Steve’s limp body, he started to scream with a new sense of vicious urgency.

“Get your fucking hands off him you bastards! No, Steve! _Steve_!” The tears froze on his cheeks and his arm burned with raw agony, but he didn’t stop until he had passed out from blood loss, and hung limply from the grips of Hydra.

…

They were both brought in.

They were both healed and given life, but neither gained freedom.

One spent more time in a chair, a surgery table, a wipe.

One took all the doctors and scientists on hand to keep down.

 

They were separated into different facilities.

When training began, each excelled at different skills.

One specialised in long-range target aim.

One specialised at strength and endurance.

Both excelled in hand-to-hand combat.

 

There was a brief loss of morale when news came in reporting that the Red Skull had been killed by a woman working for the US army. The American’s were rejoicing after their recent tragic loss of a hero. But now Hydra had their hero as well as his best friend, and nothing could have made them more intent on using it to their advantage.

_Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place._

 

Training went on for weeks, months.

Years ticked over yet neither of them would know it.

One spent longer suspended in animation than the other.

The other had routine wipes and gained a dangerous reputation.

Both of them came with warnings to scientists who dared to come close enough.

New doctors came and went, though neither of them would know it.

 

As time went by, they were given new names.

As time changed, final training began.

 

The Eagle had passed every level of training, albeit with significant kickback reactions that caused him to be suspended in cryo-freeze for extended periods while scientists came up with stronger methods to wipe him.

The Winter Soldier was a perfect weapon. Despite the name, he was the ultimate assassin and held great potential; whereas the Eagle remained more soldier-like, unable to shift his previous life’s habits and skills.

Each was given continually challenging missions to complete separately in the outside world, and they were always successful.

The Winter Soldier had vicious relapse episodes, easily causing the most injuries and casualties than any other prisoner combined, including the Eagle.

He often reacted badly to his prosthetic arm, the metallic alloy causing countless issues with spinal attachment and healing. The doctors recognized that it was the source of his relapses, but it was also one of their best technological developments.

He was the first to go into battle testing, and with every passing fight, he’d come out a little less of the person he was before. With each passing fight, a little more life was missing from those grey-blue eyes.

 

The fights took place in a hexagonal concrete training chamber, and became known as the ‘Pit’ for anticipating onlookers watching in the safety of a separate room from black and white monitors.

They were brutal fights to the death between soldiers, and when the Winter Soldier was successful in the preliminary rounds, the trainers were anxious to see how well the streak could last.

Holding up to his reputation, the Winter Soldier often left the walls of the Pit needing to be washed down after each use, using his metal arm to its fullest potential.

 

When the Eagle began the same battle testing at his separate facility, there was no doubt he could win, let alone excel, and his relapse outbursts became more sporadic; gradually being worn down time after time by the hands of Hydra’s scientists.

The Eagle really was a true example of the potential science held. The pursuit of perfection had a greater chance of succeeding with the Eagle, if only his mind could be so easily altered. He required double the amount of wiping than the Winter Soldier, but because of the healing benefits of the serum, he healed twice as fast as his counterpart. Scientists and doctors alike were eager to experiment with such a promising subject.

Whenever the Eagle had a test in the Pit, it brought about an anticipation not seen with the Winter Soldier. While the Soldier had an almost predictable skill set, the Eagle’s fighting patterns would always evolve with each passing test. He knew how to play right into the opponent’s weaknesses, and despite the loss of his shield, the appendage was barely needed with his mixed fighting style.

 

Their subconscious would always remain a problem; Hydra knew that. Their will was strong. Of all the tasks Hydra had faced, breaking these two soldiers was by far the most challenging and time consuming.

The willpower they could stamp down and crush until the subjects were limp. But it was the serum that caused them the most difficulty. It was the one thing that Hydra had always desired; yet the one obstacle that stood in their way to perfection.

However as the decades went on and science accelerated, the serum became no more than a complex math problem to solve, and the subconscious became easier for Hydra to suppress within the minds of these strong subjects. They continued to fight it, they always would, but there was only so much the human mind could handle.

 

The Winter Soldier was nearing his final battle test, and it was hard to not travel through the facility without someone speaking of it. Many were placing bets on an expected champion.

The Winter Soldier was wiped after a particularly long time out of cryo, which had resulted in a particularly violent episode and the loss of four scientists and a soldier. He was returned to his suspended animation chamber with the burns and lacerations still raw on his skin.

When the time came, he went in to the fight straight from being released from cryo, when he was the most numb, the most malleable.

Eyes black from exhaustion and empty from experimenting, his chest heaved with the weight of oxygen. Unpredictability and savageness rippled off of him. Living up to the name, he was winter personified. Even the security guards took steps back to let him pass.

 

There was no audience at any of the battles, for fear of sparking something in their memory. And this final fight was no different. Even going in to this final round, some select few were hesitant, but the majority was desperate to see what would eventuate, hungry for bloodlust and eager to see the final victor evolve from two such strong fighters.

Coming straight out of prep, both fighters struggled with the white noise in their head, muffling out anything that could stand in the way of accomplishing a mission. Features were blurred, sounds were dampened – not even their bodies felt like their own.

Outside the Pit, everything was still; all stopped to watch from hundreds of screens throughout the facility they’d been brought to.

Only one would remain, and he would be the next fist of Hydra.

The Eagle and the Winter Soldier entered the Pit.

…

  

One was on his knees, staring at the body beneath him.

 

One had broken through the white noise first, pausing when he recognized his best friend.

One had called the others name.

The other recognized him too late.

Two sets of blue eyes met with mirrored expressions of pain and recognition.

 

One screamed over the body of his friend.

Whatever shreds of humanity that he had retained were now gone forever.

Hydra had seen to that.

He became suddenly dependent on everything that had made him this monster, desperate to have this part of him seared away and replaced with someone – some _thing_ else. Because that fate was no more than he deserved.

 

One wept.

Both died in the Pit.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :)  
> Sorry for the ending - I may or may not have cried a little when I wrote it.


End file.
